


Productivity

by SoWrongButSoWrite (CinnaStarks)



Series: Inquisitor Izuna [15]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaStarks/pseuds/SoWrongButSoWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there is one thing Inquisitor Lavellan misses about her home, it’s the sleeping arrangements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Productivity

After close to a year of being away from her clan, Izuna considers herself used to most of what she would have deemed foreign before the Conclave. Then, after a long day of planning operations and making alliances, she retires to her quarters and deals with the one thing she will never understand; her mattress. That white lump of Creators know what is like a magnet to her exhausted body, pulling her limbs upon it and never letting go until the sun has risen. Izuna hates having to force herself out of the comfortable nest every morning. 

Dalish pallets weren’t comfortable, they killed her back and attracted bugs, and Izuna misses them for that reason alone. Those nasty pallets were motivation to work until she was tired enough to deal with them and get off as soon as her mind left the Fade the next morning. Unlike shemlen mattresses, they were not barriers against productivity. If anything, they were catalysts of it.

All it takes is one morning to change her mind.

As Izuna is blinking back the sunlight that has filled her quarters, she realizes that she is not alone. His arms wrap around her chest. His breath tickles at the hairs along the back of her necks. There are no cries for help nor gasps for air. Their bodies are still and as calm as bubbling spring.

The man whose mind was broken too soon, who witnessed too many horrors in too short of a time, is at peace. He is not falling over himself apologizing for waking her with yet another nightmare. He is not thrashing around, unable to escape his own Fade-twisted memories. He is simply dreaming. 

Productivity can wait.


End file.
